


Propagation Delay

by Jessepinwheel



Series: Functionally Complete [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Coming of Age, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jedi Culture Respected, Qui-Gon and the consequences of his actions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessepinwheel/pseuds/Jessepinwheel
Summary: Twenty-two years ago after a mission to Melida/Daan, Obi-Wan disappeared and never came back.This is the story of the people left behind.
Relationships: Bant Eerin & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bant Eerin & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos
Series: Functionally Complete [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879423
Comments: 74
Kudos: 453





	Propagation Delay

**Author's Note:**

> Propagation delay is the amount of time it takes for a signal to reach its destination. In an asynchronous circuit, this is a common source of glitches.
> 
> A Star Wars story by me where Obi-Wan isn't the viewpoint character? Will wonders never cease.
> 
> Anyways, minor spoilers for Asynchronous Circuit, though I can't imagine who would be reading this without reading that first.

The story starts something like this:

Bant Eerin is thirteen and a Padawan, anxiously waiting in the Temple's hangar for Master Jinn and Obi-Wan to return from rescuing Master Tahl from Melida/Daan. She believes the worst thing that can happen is they don't make it there in time, and she will never see Master Tahl again. She asks the Force to be merciful, and to let Master Tahl be safe.

Logically, she knows nothing she asks of the Force at this point will change anything--for all the power of the Force, it can't change things that have already happened, but the larger part of her mind, the one that loves her Master so much, thinks that it won't be real until she sees it. She doesn't want to see Master Tahl's body. She doesn't think she could take it.

When Master Jinn returns with Master Tahl, injured but alive, she thinks that the Force heard her plea. There's hardly any time to say anything, when Master Jinn is so busy rushing Master Tahl to the Halls of Healing, but Master Tahl is alive, _alive,_ and everything will be okay.

After everything quiets down a few hours later, Bant realizes something is missing.

"Where's Obi-Wan?" she asks, moments before learning she might have asked the Force for the wrong thing.

* * *

Maybe that's not right. Maybe the story starts like this:

Bant Eerin is eleven and no longer an Initiate. Yesterday, she was Chosen by a Master to become a Padawan, just like she's always wanted. It is her last night in the Initiate dormitory with the rest of her friends before she moves in with Master Tahl, and they are celebrating.

Garen has frosting stuck to his lip and he cuts out another slice of cake for Reeft, smiling and laughing. It's a Mon Cala recipe they'd baked themselves (with some help from a Master, of course), and while it's very different from their usual diet in the Temple and burnt on one side, Bant doesn't think she'd want to celebrate any other way.

On her other side, Obi-Wan leans against her and says, "I knew you'd make it. You're going to be a great Jedi, Bant. I'll miss seeing you all the time."

Bant runs a hand through Obi-Wan's hair and he squirms like he always does. It's soft in that funny way human hair always gets when it's not too long and not too short. She likes the feeling. "Don't be sad, Obi," she says. "You're going to be a Jedi, too, and then we'll work together again. You'll be the best Jedi Knight the Order's ever seen."

Obi-Wan smiles and the Force around him becomes so warm and light that Bant feels like she could fly.

"Yeah," he says. "One day, we'll be the best Jedi Knights in the whole galaxy."

* * *

Or maybe the story starts like this:

Bant Eerin is fourteen and learning a new lightsaber kata from Master Drallig. She's finding it hard to focus and get in tune with the Force because every time she does, she can feel nothing but a deep black pit of dread.

It isn't the first time it's happened. Ever since Obi-Wan left a year ago (disappeared, she thinks to herself. Obi would never leave without saying goodbye. Never in a million years), she's dreamt of fire and blood and death. Her friends tell her it's grief. The Healers tell her they're visions. Her Master tells her that sometimes, the Force is merciless in what it provides, and that it is not always easy to accept its messages.

Maybe they're all right. Maybe they're all wrong. One thing is for sure: she's off-balance without Obi-Wan. The presence that used to be so bright and constant in the back of her mind has been dim and quiet ever since Obi-Wan left the Temple. She has all her other friends, of course, but Obi-Wan was the first and closest. He was her brother in every way that mattered, in a way no one else could ever be, and they weren't meant to be apart. Not like this.

She steps forward slowly, moving her saber from high to low guard like Master Drallig shows her, and she can tell from his expression that she isn't quite getting it. She's moving with her body, not the Force.

She opens her mouth to explain, but the entire world tilts on its axis and her lightsaber slips from her fingers-- _this weapon is your life,_ she remembers Master Tahl saying.

Everything goes black.

The bond with Obi-Wan that had laid quiet for so long suddenly swells with noise and fear and like an ion bomb it bursts, shocking her all the way through. It hurts deeply, much deeper than flesh and bone, cutting straight to the soul and burning her like white-hot fire, and just as soon as it starts, the explosion disperses into nothing at all.

Collapsed on the floor of the salles and curled tight in a ball against the sudden pain that's filled her entire body, she reaches back for that dim light of Obi-Wan's bond and finds nothing at all.

Obi-Wan is _gone._

* * *

Bant is in the Halls of Healing for a long time after that. She's not sure exactly how long--she's asleep for most of it.

Part of it is she's genuinely exhausted. Physically, she's fine, but her mind feels like it's been raked over coals, and she needs rest to recover. The other part--the larger part, she thinks--is that she doesn't want to face what she already knows is true.

She doesn't want to know Obi-Wan is dead.

When she finally properly wakes, a full tenday later, Master Tahl is by her side with a stormy expression in her eyes.

"Master?" Bant asks.

At the sound of her voice, Master Tahl's expression softens. "Bant, are you all right?"

"I--" Bant tries to say she's fine, but can't. Physically, she's okay. Mentally, she's probably fine, too. But there's a ragged void in corner of her soul where Obi-Wan should be, and there's no way for that to ever be okay again. Eventually, she settles for, "I don't know."

Master Tahl sets a steady hand on Bant's shoulder, and her presence in the Force is like sunlight filtering through still water, cool and bright. It helps to calm Bant's roiling thoughts, though not by much. "Do you remember what happened?" Master Tahl asks.

Bant nods. She wishes she didn't.

Master Tahl closes her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Bant."

Bant doesn't respond. She's sorry, too.

* * *

Bant was four years old when she joined the Temple. It was the first time she'd ever left Mon Cala, and looking back, she would not say it was a very smooth transition.

Coruscant was loud and smelly and dry and it had too many people everywhere and too many buildings going too high into the sky. It felt like being trapped in a cage, even for the short trip from the hangar to the Jedi Temple. The Temple was better in some ways--it smelled nicer and it wasn't so crowded--but it was still huge and unfamiliar and filled with washed-out white and tan stone, so different from the vibrant blues and greens back home.

The nice Jedi who had brought her to Coruscant was tall and green and from an aquatic species, too, but Bant didn't know which one. He held her hand gently as they walked and she could see a soft calm light in him, like the waves of glowing blue krill that would drift past the city at night in the warm season. All Jedi seemed to have a strange light in them. Bant wondered what hers looked like.

The nice Jedi told her how she didn't need to be scared or worried. "We're going to put you in the creche with younglings your own age, okay?" he said. "You'll be able to make friends and settle in. You'll like it, I promise."

She nodded, because that was what you were supposed to do when an adult told you you would like something, and he dropped her off in the creche with one of the clans.

It was okay. The food tasted weird, and the creche was still too dry, and there were a lot of younglings there from a lot of different species she'd never seen before, and nobody was Mon Calamari like her. Every one of the younglings had light in them, too. Some were small and bright, others were dim but warm, others still were cool and pulsing, like the ebb and flow of waves. They introduced themselves to her but she didn't really remember any of the names.

As much as they tried to make her feel welcome, she still felt like an outsider. That night after lights out, sitting on her new bunk with her new blanket gathered up around her chin, Bant thought to herself that she missed her parents. They'd hugged her before she left and told her they'd see her again one day and that she would do big things because she was special and going to be a Jedi, but Bant didn't really want that. She wanted to be home and she wanted someone to tuck her into bed and give her a kiss goodnight. She didn't think Jedi did that kind of thing. They definitely never did in the stories.

She missed home. Home, and the sound of running water and the glittering of fish in the moonlight that filtered through night-black water. Home, where she was never going back, not for a very long time. She didn't know how long a long time would be. A month? A year? Forever?

Bant wanted to cry, but she was supposed to be a Jedi now, and Jedi didn't cry. Jedi didn't get angry and make things go flying everywhere, or say things they weren't supposed to know, or have dreams about bad things that haven't happened.

She wasn't much of a Jedi.

That's when someone sat down on the bunk next to her.

"Hey," they said quietly. Bant couldn't see that well in the dark who it was, except that it was one of the other younglings. "Are you okay?"

"Why are you on my bed?" Bant asked.

"You were sad. I could feel it," the other youngling said. "I'm in the bunk above you. I thought maybe you wanted a hug."

Bant did want a hug. "Are Jedi allowed to hug?" she asked.

The other youngling shrugged. "I hug people."

"Oh," Bant said. "I want a hug."

The other youngling hugged her. It was a good hug, and Bant could see lights like streams of stars across the night sky, so constant and far away. Bant wondered what it meant, to have lights so beautiful and cold at the same time.

"You're still sad. Why are you sad?" the other youngling asked, still holding her.

"I miss Mom and Dad," Bant said, leaning against them. She didn't feel any spines or scales or lekku or anything, so they were humanoid. Probably human. "I miss home."

"Oh. I'm sorry." After a pause, they said, "I've always been in the Temple. I like it here a lot."

Bant thought the Temple was okay, but not that great. She couldn't imagine living here for the rest of her life, or ever really fitting in. The Temple was for Jedi, and she wasn't a very good Jedi at all. She said so.

"Well, it's _my_ home," the other youngling said. "And you're my friend, so it's okay if you live here, too. Even if you're not a good Jedi."

"We're friends?" Bant asked. "Since when?"

"Since now. Because you're sad and I don't want you to be sad, and friends make friends not sad."

"I don't know your name," Bant said.

"It's Obi Wan."

Obi was a pretty good name. Kind of funny, but good. "I'm Bant Eerin."

Obi pulled back and Bant got the feeling they were smiling. Their light seemed to glitter from it. "See? Now we're friends. That means tomorrow I can show you cool secrets around the Temple. You'll love the gardens, I promise."

"Oh," Bant said. "Can I swim in them?"

"Yeah. There's lots of water. I'm bad at swimming, but you definitely can. One of the Nautolan Masters goes there a lot."

So there _was_ water in this strange dry planet. That made things seem a little better.

"Can you stay?" Bant asked. "I don't want to be alone."

Obi nodded and put an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. Go to sleep, okay? If you want to swim you have to sleep good first. That's what the crechemaster always says."

Bant leaned against Obi and felt warm inside, and not quite so lost. Obi's lights shined bright, so far off and so cold, but steady as the ground beneath them. Nobody else had lights like that, not any of the adult Jedi or the younglings or anyone in between she'd met that day. She wondered what it meant.

As Bant finally dozed off, she recalled that once upon a time, her people had navigated Mon Cala's dark oceans by the stars.

* * *

Bant is fourteen and she has never attended a funeral pyre before, not in ten years of living in the Temple. It is a milestone she would have done much better without.

She's standing as close to the pyre as they'll let her, and the air is uncomfortably hot against her skin. She knows she'll regret it in the morning when her dry skin cracks painfully, but she can't move from the spot. She _has_ to be here. It's the last of Obi-Wan she'll ever have.

She can hear Garen a few paces off, crying into his sleeve. She knows Reeft is somewhere here, too, though she hasn't seen him. Even Grandmaster Yoda's here--he probably goes to every single funeral pyre, since he's the Grandmaster of the Order and all, but Bant's pretty sure he doesn't always look this devastated, with his ears drooping and his eyes full of a very old hollowness.

Master Tahl is by her side, watching (or listening to, Bant supposes) the flames spiral into the black sky. There's not much smoke or ash--there's no body to burn, after all. Just fuel and some of Obi-Wan's old belongings. It's symbolic. Just a show, and it feels like one.

There's a lot of people--too many people. A lot of their teachers from the Initiate and junior Padawan courses, some of the High Council members, a smattering of Masters and Knights and Padawans, maybe a couple of Initiates, too. Bant doesn't recognize all of them. She's not convinced _Obi-Wan_ would recognize all of them, and he was the one who was good with names.

A bitter feeling settles in her heart. Where were all these people before? Where were they, when Obi-Wan vanished without a single goodbye and life continued on as normal? Why do they only care now that he's dead and gone?

But then Bant imagines a pyre that's only attended by Obi-Wan's closest friends, and maybe two or three Masters with them, and that hurts even more. Obi-Wan was friendly to just about everyone, and he'd probably lay his life down for anyone who needed it, but he was an exceptionally private person, and he trusted his feelings to very few people--she's lucky she ever was one of them. He was so rock-steady in his faith in the Force and in people and he was always so thoughtlessly kind that he made a difference to everyone he met, whether he knew it or not, and for all that the pyre is in his name, it's not really _for_ him. He's dead, after all. One with the Force.

She's upset nobody did anything to prevent this, but she won't get angry at people for mourning Obi-Wan, no matter how little they really knew him. He's gone now, and he deserves all the remembrance people want to offer. She hopes people remember him for the good person he was, and not just the potential Knight he could have been. He's more than that. He always was.

Grandmaster Yoda gives the final rites for Obi-Wan and Bant hardly hears any of it. She just watches the pyre burn until there's nothing more than cinders and Master Tahl gently pulls her away.

The two of them return to their quarters in silence. Bant isn't hungry, and she collapses in her bed without eating that night, wondering what happened to Obi-Wan in the last year. Why did he leave without sending them any sort of message? He hadn't even taken his things; where did he go? Why, in his final moments, had he been so _scared?_

Bant doesn't cry. She's too numb for that. Her bond with Obi-Wan has been so dim for so long now that even having it ripped out doesn't feel so different.

(This is a lie. Life is the same now that he's dead as when he was simply gone, but in every way that matters, it's so much worse.)

* * *

The next day, Bant wakes well after dawn to muffled shouting.

 _"--believe you, Qui-Gon! He was just a boy!"_ says Master Tahl's voice, angrier than Bant's ever heard it.

She leans against her door to hear better, but can't make out the soft response.

Master Tahl's reply, however, is easy enough to discern. _"Don't you dare use me as an excuse! You saw what they did to me, and you left your Padawan to them?"_

Some more muffled words.

 _"And_ you _are an_ adult! _You were his guardian! Melida/Daan is not a safe planet for a youngling! It's not a safe planet for anyone, and you knew it! You can't shuffle the blame onto Obi-Wan, and I can't believe you had the audacity to tell me he was safe!"_

Bant's heart clenches tight at Obi-Wan's name. Master Tahl barely knew Obi-Wan, so why was she so angry now? What had she learned?

 _"Capable? Qui-Gon, this has nothing to do with_ capability! _They bombed younglings._ Younglings!" Tahl continued, her voice getting even louder. _"And don't you dare tell me the Force would provide--even if you insist that's how the Force works for you, it is certainly not the way it works for a thirteen-year-old Padawan!"_

A few words in response drift through the door, a bit louder this time. Something like "sorry" and "ashamed".

 _"You_ should _be sorry! But I'm not the one who needs your apologies. Obi-Wan is dead, and you killed him!"_

Bant doesn't hear anything after that. Nothing except the words _you killed him,_ ringing in her head.

Master Jinn killed Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan loved Master Jinn and trusted him and looked up to him so much and Master Jinn _killed_ him. Master Jinn is the reason Obi-Wan never got to say goodbye. He is why Bant will never see Obi-Wan again.

There's more shouting, from Masters Tahl and Jinn both, but she can't stand to hear any more. She escapes out her window and flees as fast as her legs can take her.

* * *

Bant does not know Master Jinn very well, but whenever she thinks of him, she always thinks of this:

She is in the Halls of Healing, sitting in the hallway just outside Master Tahl's room--she has just been shooed out by the Healers, who have to work urgently to save Master Tahl's eyesight. They will not succeed, but Bant doesn't know that yet.

Master Jinn exits the room. His robes and hair are mussed and while he is utterly serene in the Force, Bant can read the lines of worry in his expression. He loves Master Tahl, Bant knows. Of course he's worried, even after he's done everything he can.

He turns to face her, and more than the worry, there's a deep sadness in his eyes.

Bant moves over on the bench to allow him to sit, and he does so gracefully as any Master should.

"Master Tahl will be okay," Master Jinn says. His voice is a deep and reassuring baritone, and his presence in the Force is steady and bright and hot, like the blade of a lightsaber. "Her injuries were severe, but the Healers are sure she will recover."

"Thank you," Bant says. She means something a lot more than that--she's no longer scared of waking up without a Master, without having that bond to Master Tahl, secure and safe--but she doesn't know how to say it. "Thank you, Master Jinn." And then, because she remembers her manners, she says, "How about you? Are you and Obi-Wan okay?"

As the words pass her lips, she realizes she hasn't seen Obi-Wan at all since Master Jinn returned. Not once. That doesn't have to mean anything--Obi-Wan's good at disappearing when he doesn't need to be around--but it's not like him to not at least say hello.

Unless, of course, he can't.

Panic grips her heart. Obi-Wan gets hurt so often on his missions that she can't help but worry, especially when Master Tahl has returned in such bad shape herself. He might be unconscious, he might be so hurt he can't talk, he might even be--

"Where's Obi-Wan?" she asks.

Master Jinn doesn't answer right away, and Bant's dread deepens.

"Master Jinn," she says. "What happened to Obi-Wan?"

Master Jinn lets out a long breath, and there's an intense sadness in his eyes. "Young Obi-Wan has left the Order," he says.

The world stops. "What?" Bant hears herself say, off in the distance. "That's not possible."

"Our recent mission was very difficult for him," Master Jinn says grimly. "He witnessed a number of things that caused him to reconsider his duties as a Jedi. In the end, he decided it was best to leave."

"No," Bant says. "No, he wouldn't! He--"

 _We were supposed to become Knights,_ she can't say. _We were supposed to stay together._

"He promised," Bant chokes out.

Master Jinn puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Sometimes, we are presented different paths in life, and it's up to us to choose whether we must take them. Obi-Wan decided that his path was not with the Jedi," he says. "We should respect that, even if it hurts us."

Bant feels faint. "He's _gone?_ He's never coming back?"

"If the Force wills it, he may return to us," Master Jinn says. "But for now, yes. He has left us."

Bant's throat feels tight. "He can't. He can't be gone. This is his _home._ What about me and Garen and Reeft and you and everyone else? He can't just _leave_ us. He didn't--didn't even say _goodbye._ "

That's what she's stuck on, the goodbye. She and Obi-Wan had only really said goodbye once, when Obi-Wan had been sent to the AgriCorps, and even then, against all odds he had come back. It was a sign, or she liked to think so. No matter how long they were apart, no matter what they did, they would come back to each other. That was the way of the world. That's what family does.

(Saying goodbye wouldn't be better, she knows. She doesn't want to be in a world where she has to say goodbye to her best friend. Especially not like this.)

Master Jinn closes his eyes for a long moment and exhales. His presence in the Force dims for a few seconds, and Bant feels his sorrow, just as heavy and deep as her own, enough to drown in. "I'm sorry, young one," he says, and he means it.

Bant flings his arms around him and holds him tight, hands fisted in his robe, the only source of comfort and strength in a world where everything's gone too wrong, too fast.

She never gets to ask what he's sorry for.

* * *

Bant doesn't have a plan when she sequesters herself in one of the crawl spaces above the gardens, except that she needs to be alone and nobody will find her here. Especially Master Tahl, she thinks as she tamps down her training bond.

She folds her knees to her chest in the darkness. It's as dusty and cramped as she remembers from when she and Obi had hidden up here, waiting to ambush Master Windu with flour bombs on a dare.

(They had succeeded in hitting him twice, and immediately got assigned cleanup duty with the kitchens, but it was okay, because Master Windu was more amused than angry at them, and gave them some tips for next time--tips he probably regretted when they nailed him with paint four months later.)

Bant isn't really sure what she meant to do when she crawled up here, except that she had to get away. It's not like she wants to think about the whole mess--she really, _really_ doesn't--but she can't stop thinking about it, either. It spins in her head, around and around like a swarm of mites she can't swat away.

 _You killed him,_ Master Tahl had said, angrier than Bant ever knew she could be.

Could Master Tahl be right? Bant's first instinct is to say yes, because Master Tahl is _always_ right, but the idea that Obi-Wan was killed-- _murdered_ \--is so horrible on its own that Bant wants to reject it out of hand just as badly.

It's bad enough that Obi-Wan is dead. It's so much worse to think someone--a _person_ \--looked at Obi-Wan (kind and earnest and _good_ ) and chose to make him that way.

How could anyone do that? How could--

Bant wraps her arms around her knees. How could _Master Jinn_ kill Obi-Wan?

Master Jinn was _good._ He was a respected Jedi and a renowned duelist and one of the best diplomats in the Order. He was Grandmaster Yoda's Grandpadawan and more in-tune with the Living Force than just about anyone else alive. She'd spoken to him, before Obi-Wan disappeared and after, too, and he'd been kind to her when he'd explained that Obi-Wan had left, and sympathetic to her pain and confusion.

Master Tahl loved him. Bant respected him. Obi-Wan...

Obi-Wan thought Master Jinn was _everything._ Master Jinn saved him from having to give up his dreams of becoming a Knight. Master Jinn taught him and took him across the galaxy on their missions. Master Jinn was a Jedi, a diplomat, and a _Master,_ and he was everything Obi-Wan had wanted.

How hard had Obi-Wan worked and studied and pushed himself to become a Padawan worthy of Master Jinn? He'd _wanted_ to be a Padawan, and he'd wanted it so badly like he had never wanted anything else, and he'd done everything he could to make it happen.

Had Master Jinn not _seen_ that? Did he not _care?_ Obi-Wan would have done everything and anything to please Master Jinn, and Master Jinn just...

Master Jinn betrayed him.

Something sick and furious settles in her heart, and a cold dark feeling spreads through her, a horrible feeling that's not at all appropriate for a Jedi. She knows it's wrong--she doesn't know what happened and there's no proof except for a muffled argument through the bedroom door--but she can't push the feeling aside, she can't let it go.

The only thing she can think of is the last time she saw Obi-Wan, over a year ago, giving her a tight hug before he boarded that ship to Melida/Daan. His hair was getting a little long and it had tickled the side of her face, and he'd pulled back and held her by the shoulders and smiled and reassured her that he and Master Jinn would bring Master Tahl back safe and sound.

 _"I'll be back before you know it,"_ he had said.

Bant had believed him, because he'd never lied to her. Not until now, the one time it really mattered, and there's no more Obi-Wan at all, nothing but those towering orange flames, spiraling into the black sky, and the body that wasn't there to be burned.

She presses her face to her knees and her arms around her legs and cries. It doesn't feel like enough--she wishes she could cry the way a human cried, like _Obi_ could, loud and splotchy and ugly like there was nothing else in the world but letting out his pain.

She sits there, alone in the dark, trying and failing to not miss Obi-Wan more than she ever did, back when he first disappeared. The moment stretches and stretches, and time itself loses meaning in the dusty little crawl space, away from anyone else who doesn't--can't--understand. She hates the moment, and doesn't want it to ever end all the same.

She just wants Obi back.

An indeterminate amount of time later, a soft scuffling noise drags her out of her spiraling thoughts.

"Ugh," says a voice from somewhere vaguely to her left, "Bant, why do you always have to pick the hardest places to"--there's a banging sound--" _ow!_ Kark, why is everywhere you get into so _small?_ "

"G-Garen?" Bant asks. "What are you doing up here?"

"Why do you think, you dummy?" Garen says, crawling over to sit by her. "You've been missing for like three hours, so obviously, I had to find you and make sure you weren't doing something stupid, and good thing I did, because getting up _here_ is pretty kriffing stupid."

"Hey, language," Bant says halfheartedly.

"I'll watch my language when you explain why you had to crawl into the dustiest hole in the Temple to hide," Garen says. "Did someone make fun of you again? Do I have to beat someone up?"

"Garen, no!"

"Garen, yes!" Garen says. "Who was it? Was it Bruck again? I'll throw him into one of the fountains--hell, I'd do that anyways."

"Garen, please, no. Bruck didn't do anything."

"Not _this_ time, but he probably still deserves it after that shit he pulled with the bombs." Garen shuffles over and slings an arm around Bant's shoulders, and she feels his presence in the Force like the soft yellow lights that went up in the Temple after nightfall. "Okay, so it's not Bruck. What's going on?"

Bant is silent for a few long moments, unsure of what to say. Eventually, she settles on, "I heard something. About Obi."

" _What?_ His funeral was literally yesterday and people are talking shit about him now? Who was it? Who do I need to punch?"

"No, it wasn't that," Bant says. "It wasn't anything like that. I just heard...um. We don't know what happened to him, right?"

"No..." Garen says slowly.

"What if...someone killed him?" Bant says. "What do we do in that case?"

Garen pauses. "Well, we have to stop them from killing anyone else, right? Get them arrested at least. Do you...really think someone would have done that? Obi-Wan is--was--fourteen. Would someone really murder a _youngling?_ "

Bant thinks about Master Jinn's sad eyes and soft smile and how he'd hugged her and told her everything would be okay. How one day, Obi-Wan might come back.

She bites her lip and says, "I don't know. Everything is just...confusing."

"Yeah, it is," Garen says. "I miss him, too."

* * *

The next few days pass in a blur. Some of them are better than others.

On good days, she can push away the thought of Obi-Wan's death for most of the day and work on her studies and things don't come crashing down until she's back in her room again, alone. On bad days, she doesn't even get that far. The thought of Obi-Wan's death hangs heavy over her like a dark cloud, the broken bond feeling raw at the back of her mind amidst the nightmares of broken earth and blaster fire and ion bombs, making it hard to think about anything at all.

By some unspoken agreement--or at least by some agreement Bant doesn't see--Garen and Reeft make sure she's never left alone, walking with her to the refectory or classes or just staying with her in the Archives. They even contrive to have her stay over a couple of nights, which is exceptionally transparent even for them, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Even when she's woken up in the middle of the night by Reeft sobbing into his pillow. Everyone's hurting just as much as she is--she can't forget that, especially now.

She doesn't see hide or hair of Master Jinn, which is weird--Master Tahl and Master Jinn used to spend a lot of time with each other--but it's probably for the best. She doesn't know what she'd do if she saw him, if she'd yell at him or try to hurt him or run away. She doesn't really want to find out.

She hears in passing that the Council has put him on indefinite probation, and she thinks that perhaps Master Tahl was right.

Maybe Master Jinn didn't cut Obi down with his saber, but he killed him all the same.

Maybe it was an accident. Maybe something happened which was out of his control. Maybe there were circumstances Bant couldn't even imagine, but at the end of it all, Obi-Wan is dead, and always will be.

A good Jedi would be able to forgive that, eventually.

Bant doesn't feel like a very good Jedi at all.

* * *

When Bant turned thirteen, Master Tahl decided it was time to have a talk.

"As you're growing older, you might start to have different feelings about people around you," Master Tahl had said. "You might already have a crush on some of your peers."

"No," Bant said.

"It doesn't have to be a boy," Master Tahl said. "It could be a girl, or it could be someone who's neither."

"I don't have a crush on anyone," Bant said. She _liked_ a lot of people, of course, but nobody in any kind of way she'd consider special.

"That's okay, too," Master Tahl said. "Some people don't feel about other people in that way."

"...okay?"

Master Tahl looked a little wrong-footed by this development, but recovered her composure easily enough and continued, "Well, by now you've probably noticed the relationship between Master Jinn and myself."

"Yeah, it's pretty obvious," Bant said. She'd have to be Obi-Wan levels of oblivious to not notice the eyes Master Tahl and Master Jinn always made at each other. She knows they kiss each other when she's not in the room.

"So I want to discuss love and attachment and the distinction between the two," Master Tahl said. "As Jedi, we're forbidden from attachment, but that doesn't mean we're forbidden from love--we are all only people, and we are meant to have compassion for all. It would be unspeakably cruel to deny ourselves things like love and grief. Love is a wonderful thing, Bant, whether it's romance or family or friendship, but we must be mindful of these feelings so they don't become selfish."

"How can love be selfish? That's not love."

"It's not," Master Tahl agreed. "When your love becomes selfish, it can become obsession or even hatred, but it can still feel like love, especially if you don't examine those feelings. If you ever reach a point where you are acting on someone's behalf without understanding what _they_ want or need, you cross that line into selfishness."

"So you just have to not do that, right?" Bant asked.

"Well, yes, but it's not so simple," Master Tahl said. "Because sometimes, if you feel very strongly about someone, you might believe you understand what they want even when you don't. And if you feel strongly enough, you might not listen to them, or might choose not to listen to them if they tell you otherwise. That's the danger of feeling very strongly, and letting your emotions cloud your judgement."

Bant frowned. "That's kind of confusing."

Master Tahl laughed. "Emotions are often confusing, young one. They'll be confusing even when you're an adult like me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Some things, you'll keep learning all your life, and this is one of them," Master Tahl said. "Being wary of attachment means being aware of obsession and selfish feelings, but it's not just that--it also means you can't let your feelings override your morals or sense of duty to others. One day, you might love someone who will go against your principles--whether on purpose or accidentally."

"That's terrible," Bant cut in. "Why would I do that?"

"Because maybe you didn't know, or they didn't do it until after you knew them. Or because that's simply how you feel, and we can't always control that," Master Tahl said. "My point is, one day, your love for someone and your duties may come into conflict, because no matter what, as a Jedi you have a responsibility to help others, and circumstances won't always let you preserve both. Maybe it'll mean letting go of the one you love. Maybe it means you will have to stop them yourself, no matter how much it hurts."

"I don't want to do that."

"That's one of the burdens we must bear as Jedi," Master Tahl said softly. "Love is wonderful, Bant, and it's so important, but you have to have balance, too. You can't let it eclipse everything else--your duty to the people and to the Force are just as important. We must take care to understand the consequences of our actions moving into the future, not just reacting to the past--it's why revenge is not the Jedi way. If we lose sight of that, if we are not mindful of our actions and how our feelings affect them, we fall into the trap of attachment."

Bant looked down, thinking about it. She couldn't really picture ever being in a situation where she might have to pick between her friends and her duty--surely, everyone was always doing the best they could, and that meant they'd never end up on opposite sides from each other. That just wasn't how things were supposed to work.

"I don't really get it," she said.

Master Tahl set a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe not yet," she said, "but I think one day, you will understand better."

Bant nodded, and wondered why that idea made Master Tahl look so terribly sad.

* * *

It's on a bad day that Bant meets Quinlan Vos.

It's mostly an accident. She's with Garen, returning from the refectory after dinner to try and work on some new assignments, when she hears shouting.

_"--cared so much, then you should have gone back for him, you son of a bitch!"_

Bant and Garen peek around the corner to find a dark-skinned Padawan yelling at none other than Master Jinn.

"Padawan Vos," Master Jinn says, "I am truly, deeply sorry for my actions. I made the best decisions I could, given the information I had."

"Yeah, is that what you think?" the Padawan--Vos, apparently--yells back. "You _left_ him! Do you even know what you did to him? He was scared the whole time! He was scared and alone and hurting and you _never went back!_ "

Bant finds herself speechless at this tableau. A Padawan yelling at at Master out in public like this is way past _improper_ \--it shouldn't happen at all.

"Who is that?" she asks Garen.

"You don't know?" he replies. "That's Quinlan Vos, Master Tholme's Padawan. He's the reason everyone found out Obi-Wan died."

"What?"

"You didn't--wait, no, of course not. You were passed out," Garen says. "Quinlan had a bond with Obi-Wan and it snapped the same time yours did, except instead of blacking out, he had all sorts of bad stuff happen. The Healers put him on house arrest and everything, but I guess that's over now."

"He was supposed to return to us," Master Jinn says.

"If you wanted him to come back, then you _shouldn't have told him he couldn't!_ " Quinlan yells. He jabs at Master Jinn with a lightsaber--deactivated, thankfully--and says, "I saw it! When you told him to hand over his lightsaber, you _told_ him he couldn't take it back! Why in the hell did you think he ever would? He's never gone back on his word--not _once!_ What, do you think you're some exception, just because you were his Master?"

"Padawan Vos--"

"Shut up! Shut the hell up! I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!" Quinlan screams. "He _trusted_ you! He would have died for you--he always thought he _would_ die for you! Well, he's dead now. He died alone and scared and in lots of pain on a shitty planet with none of his friends because you're too stuck up your own ass to go back for a kid who _loved_ you! Are you happy? Is this what you wanted?"

Master Jinn looks pained. "I think we both know this is the last thing I ever wanted."

"Then why didn't you _do something?_ " Quinlan asks, his voice breaking.

Master Jinn takes a deep breath, then looks away. "I'm sorry," he says, softly enough that Bant barely hears it.

"You'd better be," Quinlan says. "I hope he haunts you. I hope his ghost comes back and kicks your ass for all the crap you put him through. It's just what you'd deserve."

Quinlan spits at him and storms off, not even waiting for a response.

Bant goes after him.

* * *

Bant chases him down several corridors, three stairwells, and through a garden before Quinlan gets sick of running and whirls on her, snarling, "Stop following me! What the _kriff_ do you want?"

Bant winces at his obvious anger, but stands her ground. She's not going to give up on this now. "I--I heard what you said to Master Jinn."

"Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You gonna report me? You gonna tell everyone what a disrespectful Padawan I am? Do whatever you want--I don't care. I didn't say anything to Master Jinn that wasn't true."

"No, that's not--you said you saw what happened to Obi."

Quinlan glares at her. "Don't call him that. He hates it when people call him Obi."

" _I'm_ allowed to call him Obi."

"Oh yeah? And who the hell are you?"

Bant crosses her arms. "Bant Eerin. Obi-Wan's my best friend."

"What? You're not--" Quinlan squints at her. "Oh shit, you are, aren't you? Obi-Wan talks about you. You're--what the hell do you want?"

"Do you know why Obi disappeared?"

Quinlan's expression darkens. "He didn't _disappear._ Jinn ditched him."

"What?" Bant asks. "How? Where?"

"I don't _know,_ okay? It was some shitty planet with a shitty war on it. It's not my fault nobody conveniently explained where they were or what was going on."

Bant feels something sinking in her stomach. A planet with a war going on sounded...a lot like Melida/Daan. Master Tahl had told her about the endless and senseless war that had consumed the planet and it sounded positively horrible. The idea that Obi-Wan might have been left _there..._

She remembers dreams of bombs and death and blood, of unrecognizable corpses and torn earth and shattered cities. Surely, that wasn't...wasn't what Obi-Wan had seen, was it?

"A warzone... Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Quinlan snaps, gesturing with his lightsaber. "I saw it! I saw Obi-Wan hand over his lightsaber and decide to fight in a war, and Jinn karking _let_ him!"

"How could you have _seen_ that?" Bant asks. "You weren't anywhere on that mission. Was it a vision or something?"

"It's not a karking vision, it's a memory," Quinlan mutters. "I grabbed his lightsaber and saw it--it's the last time Obi-Wan touched it."

 _Psychometry._ Bant's heard of some Jedi having the ability to read back memories from objects, but it's not common--she had no idea Quinlan was one of them. Her gaze moves to the lightsaber in Quinlan's hand and it is, in fact, Obi-Wan's. "What--how did you _get_ that?"

Quinlan pulls it back protectively. "None of your business. If you think I'm giving it back to _Jinn,_ you can piss right off. At least I _care_ about Obi-Wan." His eyes narrow. "Wait. You said 'that mission.' What mission?"

"The last one he went on," Bant says. "To Melida/Daan. There was a civil war going on there. Obi-Wan and Master Jinn went to rescue Master Tahl, but Obi-Wan never came back."

Quinlan sucks a breath through his teeth. "What? And nobody even went to _check_ on him? What the hell were _you_ doing?"

Something furious bubbles up in Bant's heart. "How _dare_ you," she says. "Do you think I didn't try? I wanted to go after him the moment I found out he was gone! But I'm a junior Padawan! I don't have a _ship,_ I didn't know where he _was,_ and he never commed us back. What should I have done, Quinlan Vos? How could I have saved him?"

"You should have _told_ someone! A Master could have gone looking for him and brought him back, but you didn't and now he's _dead!_ "

"I _did_ tell someone! I told _lots_ of someones! I knew Obi-Wan never would have left without saying goodbye! I knew he'd never leave behind his dream of becoming a Knight just like that! I _knew_ something was wrong, but nobody listened to me!" How many times had Master Tahl told her that Obi-Wan was entitled to his privacy? How many times had people brushed off her dreams of death, night after night? "I did everything I could. Where were _you?_ "

Quinlan glares at her hard for a few seconds, then averts his gaze. "I didn't know," he says softly. "Our bond went quiet like a year ago. No big deal, right? Sometimes Obi-Wan's got his own shit going on that he doesn't want me getting involved with, but then...it never stopped. I tried to find him to see what's up, and that's how I learned he wasn't a Padawan anymore.

"I didn't know, I swear I didn't know. Maybe I should have. He blocked our bond ever since he left, but he couldn't keep it all out. Sometimes, when he felt really strongly, I could tell. He was usually scared. Sometimes angry. The last tenday before he died, he was...really hurt." He rubs his right wrist with a grimace. "I told Master Tholme about it, but there wasn't much he could do. Whatever Jinn told the Council, they didn't think Obi-Wan was in danger. Look how that turned out. I guess he lied to their faces."

Bant grimaces. She doesn't want to believe Master Jinn would do that, but his tendency to defy the Council was well-known. Master Tahl despaired of it.

"I'm sorry," Quinlan says. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. That was unfair. I'm just--"

Bant takes a deep breath. Quinlan's words had hurt, but she understands it better than anyone. It hurts to think that maybe they could have prevented this. Maybe there had been one path out of a thousand where Obi-Wan would still be with them here, now.

"I'm sorry," Bant says. "You shouldn't have said that, but I understand. I'm...upset, too."

An awkward silence stretches between them--too much tension broken too quickly. Too much guilt for what could have been, too much regret for what had been.

"I missed the funeral," Quinlan says eventually. "I was too out of my mind to go, and when they let me out, I just...I had to find out what happened. I broke into Jinn's quarters and took Obi-Wan's lightsaber, and that's how I saw--" His breath hitches. "He left to save lives, Bant. There was a war and there were people trying to end it and he thought the only way he could help was by staying behind to help them. It _hurt_ him to leave the Order. I felt it, he was so scared to leave but he did it because he thought it was the right thing to do--and now he's _gone!_ He's never coming--back!"

Quinlan cries right then and there in the middle of the garden, still clutching Obi-Wan's lightsaber. Bant does the only thing she can think of and pulls him into an awkward hug. The Force between them is raw with grief and pain, and Bant can't help but lean into it, such a visceral outpouring of emotion for Obi-Wan.

It hurts, but it's _real_ like none of the condolences were. Like the funeral wasn't.

Quinlan wraps his arms around her and Bant squeezes back. There's no fixing the situation, but at least she's not alone.

* * *

When Bant was eight, she told Obi-Wan about the lights.

It was late one night in the Initiate dormitories. They were on her bed and supposed to be working on homework, but that ship had sailed a little while ago.

"Everyone has them," she said. "But it's easiest to see with other Jedi. Like Master Koon is very strong and warm, like sunlight, or Master Windu is more like a lantern in a dark forest. You don't see them?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Maybe you're seeing the Force," he said. "Everyone feels it differently, I think."

"Really? How do you feel it, then?"

Obi-Wan thought about it for a bit. "It feels like...a place. Like when you step off of a ship and onto a new planet and look around and breathe in the air and it all hits you at the same time. It's like that."

"How would you know? You've never traveled to other planets, have you?"

"No, but I will. I'm going to see the whole galaxy, I think," Obi-Wan said, getting a distant look in his eyes.

Bant waited for him to come back--she was used to Obi-Wan drifting through time without realizing. This time, it only took a few seconds for Obi-Wan to blink and refocus with a shake of his head. "Bant?"

"You're back, Obi," Bant said. "How are you going to see the whole galaxy? It's so big."

"Well, I don't know if I'll see it all in person," Obi-Wan replied. "I might see it through the Force, or like I said, people feel like places to me. Maybe that's what I'll see."

"Oh," Bant said. She didn't completely understand how Obi-Wan saw the world, except that the Cosmic Force made time and space a little different for him. She knew he had visions, but it was more than just that. "If people feel like places, what do I feel like?"

Obi-Wan smiled. "You feel like the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Everything's cool and calm and safe and I can always go there even if I'm sad or mad or someone's being a jerk to me. You feel like home."

Warmth bubbled up in Bant's chest. Somehow, she knew Obi-Wan would say something like that, but it was still so much to hear out loud. "Obi, you're gonna embarrass me!"

"It's not embarrassing if it's true," Obi-Wan said, leaning against her. "What about you? What do I feel like to you?"

"Your light is like stars," Bant told him. "Not like when you fly close to one but like when you look up into the night sky and see the galaxy."

"Really? Then why am I so bad at astronavigation?"

Bant shoved him over. "Obi! Be serious!"

Obi-Wan pushed himself back up, laughing. "Sorry, I had to," he said. "That's really cool. Do you think it means anything?"

"I don't know," Bant replied. "People's lights are just their lights, you know? They don't have to mean anything."

"But it's how you see them, isn't it? Like, Bruck feels like a frozen and windy lake. I don't want to be in a place like that, not like I like being with you."

Bant thought about it for a little, then said, "I think it's because the stars are always there. No matter what planet you're on, or even if you're in space, you can see them. No matter what happens, you're always there for me."

"Of course. That's what friends do, right?"

"Yeah," Bant said. "I'm really glad I met you."

Maybe there were a lot of things she didn't understand about the galaxy and the Force, but as long as the two of them stuck together, everything would be okay.

* * *

Bant is sixteen and Master Tahl dies.

She feels sick, standing in front of yet another pyre for a loved one, and she asks the Force why so many people she loves have to die so soon.

It hasn't even been two years since Obi-Wan's death. It's not _fair._

This funeral feels different. She's alone this time--her friends are all off-planet--and there are a lot of Masters and Knights at this one, all the people Master Tahl helped with her calm temperament and steady reassurance. Master Tahl will be well-remembered, the highest honor a Jedi can hope for.

At least there's a body to burn this time, and there's something viscerally heart-wrenching about watching it go up in flames--she can smell it burn and see it disintegrate into black ash as the pyre burns on and it feels so _wrong._ Master Tahl was so strong that it seems impossible that she could have died--the two of them had worked on homework together only a tenday ago. They had said goodbye to each other in the hangar out of custom and not because it was _goodbye._ They hadn't known. They couldn't have.

It's not like Bant didn't know it would be dangerous. She knows that any Jedi can die, that the galaxy can be cruel and even the best Jedi can make mistakes, but Master Tahl wasn't _any Jedi._ She was Bant's _Master._

Insightful. Steady. Unstoppable.

In the end, that doesn't mean anything.

Master Tahl's body burns on the pyre until there's nothing left but charred bones. One with the Force, as all living things become. It's easier to believe it this time, when she's watched the flames consume the body and let it go into the sky. Maybe that's the point, to make it easier to let go. The dead are dead, and the living continue on.

Bant continues on.

* * *

It's Master Jinn who approaches her first after the funeral. That shouldn't surprise her, but it does.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Tahl was kind and thoughtful and strong, and she didn't deserve to die so soon."

His eyes are red from crying and grief hangs heavy over him like a storm cloud. Even though Master Tahl broke off their relationship after Obi-Wan's death, it's obvious that Master Jinn still loves her.

"Tahl was one of my closest friends," Master Jinn says. "And there is nothing worse than losing a Master so young. If there's anything I can do to help..."

Bant looks up at him. He still towers over her, but not nearly as much as she remembers. She wonders if it is just the grief that has made him small or if she has simply grown that much larger.

She's not angry at him anymore over Obi. Not the way Quinlan still was, and probably would always be. She hasn't forgiven him, and she's not sure she ever can, but she's not angry. It's not the Jedi way to cultivate anger--Obi wouldn't have wanted that, and she doesn't want it either.

She's letting it go.

"Thank you," she says diplomatically. "I'll let you know if there's anything."

"I tried to save her," Master Jinn says. "She was in danger and I was the closest one who could help, but I wasn't fast enough. I did everything I could, but all I could do was bring back her body."

A mean-spirited voice in the back of Bant's head hisses that at least he got to do that. _Obi-Wan_ never got so much consideration. Bant shoves the voice aside.

"Why are you telling me this?" Bant asks.

Master Jinn blinks once or twice, then averts his gaze. "I don't know."

It occurs to Bant then, that maybe Master Jinn is not asking to help her, but for someone to help him.

* * *

Time passes, as it always does.

Master Nu takes her on as a Padawan, continuing Master Tahl's teachings in archival work and it's good. Master Nu is a good teacher and patient so long as she treats the Archives with the respect they deserve.

Master Nu reminds Bant of Master Tahl in a lot of ways--she's got the same kind of cool light that Master Tahl had, but brighter and harsher. She's much sterner than Master Tahl was, and more traditional in observing Jedi customs between a Master and Padawan, but it's obvious that she cares just as much, and Bant appreciates that. It's not a completely smooth transition, with them both mourning Master Tahl, but they put in the work to make the apprenticeship function.

Master Nu has her talk to one of the Mind Healers about Master Tahl and Obi-Wan, and it helps. They work with her to heal her torn bonds and work through her feelings and it's exhausting and unpleasant and doesn't always seem worth it, but she makes progress. It's not a perfect solution--the grief never really goes away, but it gets better. With time and practice, it gets easier to remember them for the good times they had, instead of grieving for what they've lost.

Bant sees Master Jinn a few more times, but not very often, and not for very long. He doesn't bounce back from Master Tahl's death at all--even after a few months, he's like a ghost haunting the Temple, drifting and barely present, staring at everything and nothing. Bant knows people recover at different rates, but Master Jinn doesn't seem to be recovering at all.

"Can't we help him?" Bant asks. "He's still hurting so much."

Master Nu frowns. "We could if he reached out, but we can't help a man who doesn't want it. We can't force that on him. All we can do is wait."

"What if he never asks for help?"

"There's not too many options. The Council can take him off of mission rotations if he's not fit for fieldwork or assign him to a Mind Healer, but those can only do so much, especially when Qui-Gon is the most stubborn man in the entire Temple."

Bant looks down at the datapads she is shelving. "What...what if he doesn't know how to ask for help?"

Master Nu's stern expression softens. "Then we have to make sure he knows support is here, and that he doesn't have to go through all this alone. Maybe that will be enough. Maybe it won't." She sets a gentle hand on Bant's shoulder. "I know you care very much about people, but healing is a personal process. You can help someone heal themselves, but you can't do the healing _for_ them."

"That doesn't seem right."

"Sometimes, it is all we can do to give people the tools to help themselves. It's good for a Jedi to want to help people, but you have to understand your limits. We can't control other people's actions or feelings--we can only guide them," Master Nu says. "I don't think we should give up on Qui-Gon, but there's little more we can do for him until he decides he wants to let go."

Bant doesn't like that, but she understands.

Master Jinn needs help, and the only people who can reach him are dead.

* * *

It would be a lie to say Bant ever really stops missing Obi-Wan.

She can't really help it--the Temple was always, first and foremost, _his_ home. He had let her in and introduced her to everything and made her welcome. He was the one who showed her how the turbolifts worked, and how to get to the best gardens, and told her which Masters were most likely to give them treats when asked nicely. Her memories of Obi-Wan are as much a part of the Temple as the masonry.

She still dreams of him sometimes, where he's a Padawan beside her and they work on homework together or go out into the city or play tricks on each other, like he never left at all. For a few precious hours, everything is as it should be, until like a floating soap bubble, it disintegrates into nothing.

Master Nu has suggested that she takes a sabbatical away from the Temple if the memories are too much, but that's not really what she wants. Those memories are _why_ the Temple is her home now. It's why she feels so safe here, even when Obi-Wan himself is gone.

Sometimes, sitting in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and remembering all the ways she and Obi-Wan and Garen and Reeft got into trouble and learned and played, Bant thinks she understands what Masters mean when they say going into the Force isn't something to mourn.

He's dead, but in the heart of her home, in _her_ heart, he's still here.

* * *

Bant is seventeen and a faraway war ends without her even knowing.

"Did you hear?" Quinlan says one day at dinner. "Melida/Daan's war is over."

It's been over two years since she last thought of Melida/Daan, but it springs to mind just as easily. How could it not?

"What?" she asks.

"Yeah," Quinlan says. "The war ended a few months back, apparently. It just took a while for them to figure out a new government and send the good news. They requested help from the Senate to help recover from the war damages."

"Their war was so long, though," Bant says. "How did they end it?"

Quinlan shrugs. "Not sure. There was something in the report about a faction called the Young--they got enough leverage over the other clans to force peace talks. Nobody really knows why the other factions went down so fast all of a sudden, but Master Tholme is guessing some assassinations were involved."

"The Young? Is that...the group Obi-Wan joined?"

"I think so," Quinlan says. He digs out a datapad and pulls up an article. "Look--their representative."

There's a snapshot at the top of the article of the representative speaking to a Senator. The representative of Melida/Daan is a human male and absurdly young--maybe only seventeen or eighteen standard.

Obi-Wan left four years ago. It's not hard to do the arithmetic.

"When they call themselves the _Young..._ " Bant says.

"Yeah." Quinlan takes his datapad back, looking grim. "They're all younglings, best as I can tell. This guy's probably one of the oldest, if not _the_ oldest."

Bant stares down at her food, not feeling very hungry anymore. Bad enough to get embroiled in a war, but a war where adults killed younglings? That's...

She's not even sure what she _can_ say.

"No wonder Obi-Wan left," Quinlan said. "His bleeding heart never would have been able to leave that alone."

"Quinlan. Don't say that."

"It's true, isn't it? It's not like Obi-Wan's the only one who would do that--he's just the only Padawan who actually did."

Bant grimaces. Obi-Wan shouldn't have _been_ in that situation, but she can't blame him for the decision he made. He cared so much about everyone--how could he have done anything different?

"So Obi succeeded, then?" Bant asks. "This is what he wanted. The end of the war."

"Obi-Wan _died._ That's not much of a success."

"I don't think it's a coincidence that he joined the Young and only three or four years later, they successfully end such a long war. He did _something._ He died, but he made a difference."

Quinlan's expression sours. "If they'd gotten their shit together a few years earlier, he wouldn't have had to die at all."

The bitter pill is they're both right.

* * *

Three weeks later, the Senate sends Jedi to help Melida/Daan rebuild after their war.

Bant and Quinlan aren't one of them.

* * *

Bant is twenty and decides she doesn't want to do archive work.

There's nothing wrong with it--it's good work and she loves Master Nu, but it's not for her. She needs something else.

"I want to become a Healer," she tells Master Nu over breakfast one morning.

Master Nu looks at her for a long moment. "Okay," she says.

"I...oh," Bant says. "That's it?"

Master Nu puts her fork down. "Bant, it's obvious you've thought about this for a long time. You're a very good archivist--I would be thrilled to have you indefinitely, but if it's not what you want, then it's my duty as your Master to make sure you can become the best Jedi you can be. That means doing what _you_ want to do. If you think you'll be best suited as a Healer, then we'll find a way for you to learn what you need to. I can speak to Vokara--goodness knows she could use more people in the Halls of Healing."

"Oh. I see." Bant pushes around the food on her plate. "You don't want to hear my reasoning?"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Padawan," Master Nu replies. "Your reasons are your own. If you would like to share them, I'd be honored to hear them, but otherwise you are free to serve the Force and the Order in the way that best suits you. Healing is a very difficult discipline, but I think you have the right temperament and skills for it. If you work hard--and I know you will--I believe you can become an excellent Healer."

Master Nu _trusts_ her. Master Nu _believes_ that she can do well. It means a lot more than Master Nu probably realizes. 

"Thank you," Bant says, meaning so much more than she can ever put into words.

Master Nu smiles, and Bant thinks maybe she understands anyways.

* * *

Healing is a lot harder than Bant ever thought it would be.

There's at least ten different courses she has to take in addition to her usual Padawan coursework, along with rotations in the Halls of Healing and supplemental work with the cybernetics department.

There's no way she's going to become a Knight within the usual timeframe, but she's not worried about that--she's in no hurry. She studies hard and she learns everything she can, from how to calculate fluid replacement levels to monitoring bacta concentrations to using the Force to judge someone's spiritual health.

Officially, she's still Master Nu's Padawan, but she ends up spending most of her time in the Halls of Healing with Master Che.

Master Che is a strict taskmaster, with a light like a red-hot iron that glows out of pure heat and intensity. She's very good--one of the very best--and she teaches Bant not just how to cure an illness, but how to heal a _person._

Four months into her training, a Togruta Jedi gets brought in in critical condition, and she's thrown into the thick of it, taking vitals and preparing him for fluid replacement therapy and reading off lab values for Master Che to interpret. It's a gruelling hour and a half to stabilize the patient, but they succeed.

At the end of it all, Bant makes a report on the patient case. Master Che listens carefully, nodding every so often, then takes the datapad from Bant to examine it herself. She reads through it for a few minutes and looks up at her, smiling. "Very good work, Bant. I think we'll make a great Healer out of you yet."

* * *

Sometimes, when Bant is restless, she goes up to one of the Temple spires to look at the stars, so distant and cold but so steady. Even after all this time, she's never met anyone else who felt like starlight.

Looking up to the night sky makes her feel less lonely, like Obi-Wan is still by her side. He would be twenty-one years old now, and Bant lets herself wonder what he would be like, if he were still alive.

Maybe he would finally be taller than her, or his hair would be longer, or he'd have more freckles.

She thinks his laugh would have stayed the same.

* * *

Bant is twenty-four and she has known Obi-Wan longer dead than she knew him alive.

Of her friends, she is the only one who hasn't been Knighted yet, but considering her switch to Healing, it's no surprise at all. Garen is a pilot, Reeft is out running relief efforts, and Quinlan is a Shadow just like his Master was, with a Padawan of his own.

She wonders when the time started moving so fast.

"There's a funny thing I heard, when I was out on the Outer Rim," Quinlan tells her one day when she meets him at the hangar as he unloads after a mission.

"If this is another story involving a brothel, I don't want to hear it," Bant says.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Quinlan says. "You know bounty hunters?"

"I know _of_ bounty hunters."

"Okay, right. You know Jango Fett?"

Bant hums. She doesn't leave the Temple much, but she hears enough stories. "He's Mandalorian, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He's one of the best out there, apparently."

"So what happened to him?"

"Nothing, really. It's just that he picked up a partner at some point."

"Don't bounty hunters team up all the time?"

"For single jobs, maybe, but this seems like a more permanent thing," Quinlan replies. "Same guy's been with him for over a year."

"So Jango Fett found someone? There's nothing weird about that, is there?"

Quinlan shrugs. "If that was all, then no. But hearsay says Jango's partner is some red-haired man named Kenobi."

Bant stops dead. "What?"

"Yeah, like I said, funny," Quinlan says. "It's not a super common name, but it's not that _uncommon,_ either. I don't even know if it actually was 'Kenobi'--it's not like I saw it spelled out. That's just what it sounded like, and with red hair? Jango's like...thirty, almost. The age range might fit."

"Quinlan, it's not Obi-Wan."

Quinlan shakes his head. "I know. You don't have to tell _me._ It's just, you know. Wouldn't it be funny if he was alive somehow? Like he was out there this whole time, living it up, and he never cared enough to tell us."

"That's not what I'd call funny."

"Yeah. A real kick in the dick, that's what that would be." Quinlan's hand moves to the second lightsaber on his belt--Obi-Wan's lightsaber, still cared for to this day. "Do you think you'd forgive him if he did that to us?"

"Obi-Wan's dead."

"Yeah, but what _if,_ Bant. I...think I would," Quinlan says. "I miss him still. Not all the time, I mean it's been, what, ten years? And it's not like I knew him that long--it was only a few months, but _damn_ if he didn't make an impression before everything went to shit. I'm okay usually, but sometimes I'm out and I'll see a pretty rock or a cool bug or something and go, 'Man, Obi-Wan would love this,' and it hits me like a kriffing speeder all over again. If he came back, I'd probably forgive him. I'd have to punch him in the face first, but I'd forgive him. I don't even care if he's not a Jedi anymore--as long as it's _him._ I want that so bad sometimes. Don't you?"

"Quinlan..."

"I know, healthy coping mechanisms and letting go and shit. I don't think it's actually him. It's just something I thought about on the way back," Quinlan says. "If you don't want to talk about it, we can forget it. I got some gifts and a Padawan I need to spoil. Aayla didn't give you any trouble, right?"

"No, of course not. She's an angel--you haven't corrupted her yet, astoundingly," Bant says. "She's in the salles with Master Drallig. If you hurry, you can see her duel some of the other Padawans."

Quinlan nearly drops his bag. "What? Bant, why didn't you say so earlier! I gotta see my kid kick ass!"

He rushes off without waiting for a response. Bant resignedly goes after him.

* * *

Bant is twenty-five and meets Anakin Skywalker.

He shines like nobody she's ever met before--he's like a bright white sun, too bright to look at and too hot to touch. A nourishing light--or a deadly one.

Master Plo brings him in for a physical exam, and all Bant knows at that point is young Skywalker is to join the Temple.

She does the exam easily enough--it's routine and she could probably do it in her sleep. It's not until she checks the orders for Anakin and sees a number of immunizations that are standard at infancy across the Republic that she realizes something strange might be going on.

"Where are you from, Anakin?" Bant asks.

"Tatooine!" Anakin says. "It's a desert planet all the way out in the Outer Rim, with two suns. It's not cold like it is here."

Tatooine. A planet that's known mostly for the Hutts and slavery.

"It sounds very interesting," Bant says as she records his pulse and respiration rate. "How did you come to be at the Temple?"

"Mister Qui-Gon brought me!" Anakin replies. "He bet on me in a podrace and he used the money to buy me from Watto so I'd be free, and now I'm going to become a Jedi, just like him!"

That's...a lot to unpack in one sentence. Bant opts to clarify the easiest point. "Master Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Anakin nods. "Uh-huh! He's super tall and he has a laser sword. It's totally wizard. Do you know him?"

Bant does, and she tells him so. She continues talking to him as she works through the many orders, including the removal of a subcutaneous _explosive slave chip._ Anakin happily tells her about his life and about Padme, the Queen of Naboo, which they had apparently rescued on 'their' mission.

"--and now Mister Qui-Gon is going to teach me how to use a laser sword, just like a Jedi!"

"He's going to take you on as a Padawan?" Bant asks.

"Yeah, that thing! Those Jedi in the chairs said I can't be a Jedi because I'm too old, but Mister Qui-Gon said he would take me, so once he's all better, he's going to help me move into his place and teach me all about being a Jedi."

Bant feels a little cold at that. The circumstances of Anakin's arrival at the Temple are unconventional to say the _least,_ and if the Council say that it's best he isn't trained, they have a reason for it. That's not something Master Jinn should override just _because._

Not least of all because of what happened the last time he had a Padawan.

"...are you mad, Miss Bant?" Anakin asks. "You seem kind of upset."

Bant takes a deep breath and stills her emotions, then says, "No, I'm not angry, just unsure. You're very different from most Jedi, Anakin. It might be difficult for you."

"That's okay. I work hard all the time! I'm really great at mechanics and math and I never get in the way!"

"That's...good," Bant says. "I hope you'll be able to learn lots from the Temple."

Anakin answers in the positive, then talks more about the podracer and the droid he built and how he flew a ship in the middle of some kind of siege on Naboo. Bant listens with half an ear while she draws a few vials of blood for labwork and gives him his immunizations.

When she's finished everything Anakin needs, she gives him a piece of candy and sends him off with Master Plo.

Anakin seems like a good kid. Enthusiastic and strong in the Force, if nothing else. Hopefully, he'll be able to adapt to Temple life and make friends among his peers.

She cleans up the exam room, thinking about the difficult times Anakin will likely have ahead of him. Any youngling has the opportunity to do well, but it's harder for older younglings--even for her, the transition had been difficult, and she was only four. Without Obi-Wan, she's not sure where she would be now.

She's not confident Master Jinn can make that transition smoothly. Anakin will need support--someone to keep an eye on him, at least.

She messages Quinlan.

* * *

Quinlan is, predictably, furious.

He waits until Anakin's follow-up immunizations to pull Master Jinn aside and have some words with him about the situation, and Bant happens to be in the adjoining room to hear it.

How dare you, Quinlan says. After what you did to Obi-Wan, how dare you take on another Padawan. Will you abandon this one, too?

Anakin needs to be trained, Master Jinn rebuts. That is the will of the Force, and if no one else will shoulder that burden, then I will.

Quinlan flings some vulgarities. After all his work on the Outer Rim, they're quite colorful.

I understand your upset, Master Jinn tries to say.

Don't tell me about upset, Quinlan says. You've got blood on your hands.

Master Jinn apologizes, but it's not enough. It never is.

If you take on that kid, you had better love him, Quinlan snarls. You'd better teach him and care for him. Raise him right like a proper Master should.

I will do better, Master Jinn says.

You will, Quinlan replies. If I hear you ever do anything like what you did to Obi-Wan, I'll kill you. I don't care if you're a Master or a Sithkiller or one of the greatest duelists in the Order, I will murder you in cold blood in your sleep and you will never see it coming.

Duly noted, Master Jinn says.

There's silence for a bit, then the sound of minor commotion and someone falling over. Quinlan comes back through the door.

"Hey, Bant. Didn't know you were in here," Quinlan says.

"Hello, Quinlan," Bant says. "Did something happen with Master Jinn?"

"He tripped and fell," Quinlan replies. "Hit his nose pretty hard. Might be broken."

Bant sighs and gets up. "I guess I'll go check on him."

* * *

Bant is twenty-six and gets Knighted.

The Trials are difficult, but she makes it through them intact, and at the end of it all, Masters Nu and Che stand side by side as they take her through her vows. They ask her to be compassionate and to use her skills to help those who need it, to be the bulwark of the weak and faithful to the Force.

Bant thinks about what it means to be a Jedi. She thinks about a youngling reaching out to someone in the creche who is scared, just because they don't want them to be sad. She thinks about a Padawan leaving the Order to end a war, and dying in the process.

She thinks about loving and grieving and letting go. She thinks about the Master who taught her about attachment and duty, the Master who taught her about reaching out to help others help themselves, the Master who taught her to preserve life with her own hands.

Bant doesn't know if she's a good Jedi, but that's the point, isn't it? It's not a destination, it's a process. She learns and she learns, from every person she meets. She connects to others and helps them as they help her, and they both move further down that path. Sometimes it's not the same path for everyone, and that's okay.

She thinks about this all and swears her vows.

"Then I pronounce you a Knight of the Jedi Order," Master Nu says, lifting away her silka beads. It's very strange not to have the weight draped over her head after it's been there for so long.

"Rise, Knight Eerin," Master Che says.

Bant rises, no longer a Padawan, but a Jedi Knight.

"Thank you, Masters," she says, her voice choked with emotion.

Master Nu gathers her into a crushing hug. "I'm so proud of you."

The Force seems to shimmer all around them with light, and Bant thinks that if Master Tahl were here, she would be so happy.

Master Che leads her off the floor and congratulates her, as do all of other attending Masters and her friends observing the ceremony.

"Took you long enough, Knight Eerin," Garen says, slinging his arm around her shoulders on the way out of the Chambers with a toothy smile. "You know what this means--we've got to celebrate! Quinlan knows a great place."

"I don't trust any place Quinlan thinks is a 'great place,'" Bant replies.

"Well, _I_ know a great place," Garen says. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you."

The group of them head out into the city, talking and laughing, and for the moment, everything feels so _good._

That night, Bant climbs up to one of the Temple spires and looks out to the stars.

"I made it," she says. "I'm a Jedi Knight now, just like we always said."

A cool breeze settles over her, and she thinks she can hear Obi-Wan's voice say, _Of course. I always knew you would._

* * *

Bant is twenty-seven and settling into Knighthood.

She still doesn't leave the Temple often--she's mostly in the Halls of Healing when she isn't occasionally called away to do some tasks in the Archive, so she stays firmly off the mission rotation.

She doesn't mind it, but Garen and Quinlan tell her a lot of stories about their missions across the galaxy and she wonders if she's missing out. Maybe she is, but she's happy here, too. It's not like there isn't plenty to do on Coruscant.

One evening, she passes through the Archives to pull documents for Master Che when she spots Janeel, a Zabrak and Archive Padawan, poring over some extremely specific history documents.

"What are you working on?" Bant asks.

"Huh? Oh, hey, Bant. A Senator came in a little while ago. He wanted to see if this was some kind of Force artifact," Janeel says, holding up a small pendant. It's no larger than Bant's thumb, with a brassy color and a peculiar geometric design. There's definitely a strange presence in the Force surrounding it.

"A Senator? Which one?"

Janeel waves a hand dismissively. "Dunno. From Alderaan, I think. Ordani? Ogendi?"

"Organa," Bant says.

"Yeah, yeah, that guy."

"Why would he have this? How would he even know to bring it to us?" Bant asks, picking up the pendant to examine it more closely. It's heavier than it looks, and there's no signs of oxidation at all on it.

"He says he got it as a gift," Janeel replies. "But he suspects there might be something dangerous about it--people dying in mysterious circumstances around it. Ghost story stuff. Apparently the detective he's working with told him he should bring it to us."

"A detective?" Bant asks. "Why would a detective tell him to bring it here? Most people don't even believe in the Force."

Janeel shrugs. "I'm just telling you what he said, Bant. Maybe the detective is superstitious. Whatever it is, that detective was right--there's definitely some Force stuff going on with this thing. I'm in the middle of the translation," she says, holding up her datapad, which has a pre-Ruusan annotated text on it. "I don't think it's cursed, though. If weird stuff is going on around that pendant, it's not the pendant's fault."

"Interesting," Bant says, turning the pendant over in her fingers. She doesn't sense anything malicious about it at all, so it's probably a false alarm, but it's good of Senator Organa to check. They would hardly want Sith artifacts getting loose in the highest levels of the Senate. She sets it back down on the table and pats Janeel on the head. "Well, keep up the good work. Make sure not to stay up too late, okay?"

Janeel squirms at her. "Bant! I'm not a youngling anymore!"

Bant grins. Janeel is fifteen, which is very much still a youngling. "You'll always be a youngling to me, Janeel."

* * *

Bant is thirty and learning that teenagers are the worst.

Probably not all teenagers, honestly, because Aayla remains a wonderful little angel despite Quinlan's efforts, but if she had any hair, Anakin would have had her tearing it out a long time ago.

She's not Anakin's designated Healer, but he comes directly to her often enough that she might as well be. He's only gotten stronger over the years, and apparently that comes with getting into proportionally more trouble. With Master Jinn as his Master, it was basically inevitable.

"--and then Master Qui-Gon used his lightsaber to deflect the bolts back at them. It was so cool--you should have seen it!" Anakin says while Bant sets his broken arm. "And then he took the three of us and jumped out of the window--"

It seems like all of Master Jinn's stories involve some amount of collateral damage and flouting of the rules, or at least all of the ones Anakin tells her. Bant is worried about the example Master Jinn is setting, especially for a boy who clearly idolizes him so much.

"...hey," Anakin says. "Bant, do you hate Master Qui-Gon? Because you always make a face when I talk about him."

"I don't hate Master Jinn," Bant says.

"Then what's the problem? He's the best Master in the Order!"

Bant takes a deep breath. "Master Jinn hurt me very badly when I was younger, Anakin."

"What? No, he couldn't!" Anakin protests. "He would never hurt anyone!" he says, despite the fact that Master Jinn assuredly hurt a few people _in the story he is currently telling._

"He did," Bant says. "He made a snap judgement like he often does, and one of my friends died as a result. Plenty of Masters in the Temple can attest to it if you don't believe me."

"But--" Anakin says. "But he's a _good_ person! He's a _good_ Jedi!"

"You can be a good person and do bad things."

"He didn't mean to, though," Anakin presses. "It must have been an accident, there's nothing he could have done!"

It takes a lot to not snap at him that there _was_ something Master Jinn could have done--a _lot_ of something he could have done. He could have told the Council the full truth. He could have gone back at any point in the year before Obi-Wan died. He could have gotten more support for Melida/Daan to end their war sooner.

But all that would have involved admitting he was wrong.

Bant splints Anakin's arm and settles it in a sling. "Anakin. Even if it was an accident and he didn't mean it, my best friend died. I'm allowed to be hurt by that."

"But it happened a long time ago, right? So you forgive him now?"

"I'm not angry at him anymore," Bant deflects. "But I don't like him, either."

"He's a good person, though," Anakin insists.

"Maybe he is a good person. That's not my point. I'm allowed to not like people, Anakin."

"Well, if you don't like Master Qui-Gon, you're wrong," Anakin says. "Thanks for fixing my arm."

Anakin hops off of the exam table and leaves the Halls of Healing.

He doesn't come back to see her in the Halls after that.

* * *

Bant is thirty-five and she has outlived Master Tahl.

She's not sure how to feel about that, honestly. It's such a bittersweet milestone, to know that she's now seen more of life than her own Master. She wonders what Master Tahl would think of everything that's happening now.

A war has started--an intergalactic civil war so much larger than she ever could have imagined. Jedi are being forced to the front lines as Generals, not just by the Senate but by their duty to protect lives, and already there are so many dead.

Before this year, Bant had only attended four funeral pyres. In the last few months alone, she has attended twelve. Two of them had no bodies to burn.

She doesn't see anything of the war from her place in the Halls of Healing, not directly anyways, but she feels it. The Force of the Temple is dim with grief and pain. They are all Jedi and they will do their duty to protect the people who need it most, laying their lives down if they must, but it's hard. It's _war._

She dreams of battlefields and blood and death, like she used to when she was thirteen. She wakes with the smell of ion discharge in her nose and the sound of bombs echoing in her ears and she wonders if Obi-Wan with his ability to see through time had ever seen this eventuality.

The Halls of Healing are busier than ever, with Masters and Knights returning injured or nearly dead almost every day, and it's exhausting. They're overwhelmed to the point where Master Che, now Chief Healer, has had to bring in extra help, so they don't have to reach the point where they must sacrifice one life to save another. It's obvious they'll reach that point if this all continues much longer, but they have to hold it off as long as they can. They have to preserve what life they can, even if they're doing so just to send Jedi back to the battlefield.

They have to triage. They have to prepare for battle instead of letting themselves mourn. They have to reduce the harm they can, and that means taking losses. That is the way of war.

Once, Bant had asked the Force why Obi-Wan had to die so quickly. Now, she doesn't understand how he survived so long.

* * *

It's early one day when she overhears gossip in the refectory, as there is always gossip in the refectory.

A Darksider has been captured and arrested, she hears. The same person who tried breaking into the Archives the day before, probably. Knights Chun and Peth brought him in at dawn.

A Darksider on Coruscant is an idea that Bant doesn't like at all. Bad enough that they're fighting the Sith out in the galaxy, but here? So close to home? They're supposed to be _safe_ here.

There's not a lot to hear about this Darksider except that he's a human man with long hair--that could describe hundreds of millions of people in Coruscant. Bant puts the thought out of her mind and goes to work in the Halls.

She doesn't think about it any more until that afternoon, when Master Che brings in a critical patient along with a Jedi guard and Master Plo. Bant's too busy with her own patients to see what's going on, except that it's something dire enough that Master Che has to see to it personally. She remains busy for a few hours, long enough to see Master Jinn go into the adjacent room and hear subsequent yelling about it, a common enough reaction to Master Jinn.

About twenty minutes later, when Bant is finally on her break, Master Che exits the room with Master Jinn in tow. Master Jinn looks like he's seen something terrible, while Master Che looks angrier than Bant's ever seen.

"Master Che," Master Jinn says.

"Don't 'Master Che' me, Qui-Gon," Master Che says. "Your behavior in that room was unacceptable and I won't have any more of it. You will not sling accusations at any more of my patients, and certainly not Obi-Wan."

Bant nearly drops her lunch.

"What was I supposed to think?" Master Jinn says. "He _died!_ He shouldn't be alive--it's _impossible_ for him to be alive, except by some sort of Dark forces. You were in that room just the same as me--you felt it, there's something _unnatural_ about him."

"That boy has suffered so much more than you realize," Master Che says. "He's suffered so much more than any Jedi should, and you of all people should respect that--you're the reason he had to go through any of it at all."

"I know," Master Jinn says. "I've heard it before."

"Then you'll hear it again, Qui-Gon. We abandoned that boy for twenty-two years. You left him in a _warzone_ and didn't tell anyone until you thought he was dead," Master Che seethes. "It is a miracle he is alive, and it certainly was not thanks to any of us."

"How? _How_ is he alive again?"

"He never died. He didn't explain the whole story to me--he's certainly entitled to his privacy after all this time--but when we believed he had died, we were sorely mistaken. We should have gone back for him." Master Che sniffs. "There's nothing you can do about it now--he wants nothing to do with you, and I'm inclined to let him have that. Whatever thoughts you have about him, you'll have to keep them to yourself or talk to a Mind Healer about them. You'll have no more contact with him."

"What? You can't do that--he's my Padawan, he's--"

"He is _not_ your Padawan, and he has not _been_ your Padawan since you left him. Obi-Wan is _not_ the thirteen-year-old youngling you knew. He is his own man now and you are not entitled to him now any more than you ever were. You will _not_ speak to him again, and I _will_ force you out of the Halls if I must."

Master Jinn's expression twists and he looks away, sliding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. "What are we to do with him? We can hardly induct him into the Order again."

"We will _ask_ him what he wants, but I suspect he won't want to stay here, even if it were possible. We've hurt him too much through our inaction, and he has his own life--something you would do well to accept sooner rather than later."

Master Jinn exhales heavily. "How is he ever going to forgive me?"

"Obi-Wan does not have the power to make you forgive yourself, Qui-Gon," Master Che says. " _That_ is your problem, and it has always _been_ your problem. You refuse to own up to your own guilt. You refuse to move on from your mistakes. You refuse to _change,_ even when you are given every tool to do so and everything indicates that you must."

"Obi-Wan--"

"Obi-Wan is not a part of this! He has moved on and let go, a skill he clearly did not learn from you."

"What--What can I _do,_ Master Che?"

Master Che tuts. "Well, the first thing you can do is respect his wishes and give him his space. The second thing you can do is _work_ through your issues. I can schedule you with a Mind Healer if you think you'll actually listen, this time."

Master Jinn doesn't respond.

"If you're not going to do anything, then get out of my Halls. There are more patients who need my help," Master Che says. "Think about your next course of action carefully, Qui-Gon. We are all willing to help you--we always have been--but there's nothing we can do until _you_ decide you want to change."

She has one of the Hall Padawans escort Qui-Gon out, then heads back to the patient rooms. Bant catches her on the way there.

"Is it true?" she says. "Obi's alive?"

Master Che's eyes widen, then soften. "Oh. You were one of his friends, weren't you, Bant?"

"Master Che," Bant all but begs. "Is he alive?"

Master Che nods. "Obi-Wan Kenobi is alive. He's very different from how he was when he left the Order, and he's been through greater trials than many of us will ever face, but he is alive."

"I--I need to see him."

Master Che rests a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "I understand your need to speak to him, but Obi-Wan is currently in detention," she says. "Until he's released, nobody is allowed contact with him except his guards and interrogators."

"What? Detention, but--" Bant stammers. "Is _he_ the Darksider? That's not possible! Obi would _never_ \--"

"Calm yourself, Bant," Master Che says. "He was arrested partially on charges of Dark Side use, but I do not believe there is any basis to those claims. I understand he was primarily detained with relation to Anakin's recent disappearance. You'll have to wait until this is all over to see him."

"Master Che..."

Master Che pulls her into a hug. "I know, young one. I cannot imagine how difficult this is for you, but we can't flout the due process here and now. The moment he is released, you can see him."

Bant squeezes Master Che back, feeling like a youngling of twelve again. "Okay," she says. "I'll hold you to that."

* * *

The second Bant hears Obi-Wan is released from custody, she goes to see him.

He's already left.

* * *

That night, Master Plo's search party brings both Obi-Wan and Anakin to the Halls of Healing. Anakin looks near-dead, and Obi-Wan...

"He's not breathing," Bant says.

"That's normal," Master Che says. "Continue the evaluation."

She does so. Except for the breathing thing, Obi-Wan is mostly well, especially compared to Anakin. He's got a damaged cybernetic hand-- _when did he lose his hand?_ \--and a large burn slash across his back, which would have been lethal if it weren't for his energy-dispersant coat, both of which he'll recover from.

They treat him as much as they can, bandanging his burns and safely detaching the damaged hand. It's all so hectic that Bant doesn't get a chance to actually _look_ at him until the technician comes in to deal with his burned neural port.

Obi-Wan is different. His hair is a few shades darker and so much longer now, and he doesn't have as many freckles anymore. He's got a beard, of all things. Despite all that, it's undeniably him.

Bant is scared to look away, like he'll disappear if she does. She reaches out to him in the Force and finds out what Master Jinn must have meant by _unnatural._ There's hardly anything at all to sense in him, and what little _is_ there feels like static more than the lights she's so used to, but if she concentrates, if she _looks,_ she can still see it.

It's him, like stars dusted across the night sky. No one else is like it.

Bant wonders what happened to him. He's got so many scars, all over his body. He's missing a _hand,_ for goodness' sake, and that's the least of what could have happened to a youngling in the middle of a war.

That war lasted over three years after Obi left. How had it hurt him? How much did he miss home, or wish that someone would come rescue him?

How could he ever forgive them for abandoning him?

They finish everything they can with Obi-Wan until the only thing left is to let him rest. One of the Republic soldiers tells her that he wants to stand vigil by Obi-Wan for the night. She's not sure how Obi-Wan would have met one of the clone soldiers, but it's obvious that the soldier cares about him, so she lets him into the room.

Obi-Wan's been alone for so long. He shouldn't have to wake alone again.

* * *

The next morning, the fact that Obi-Wan is alive still hasn't quite sunk in.

The Healers are going over each of the patients, keeping everyone up to date on everyone's status, but Bant isn't completely listening. She feels like she's in a haze.

Master Che pulls her gently aside and hands her a datapad. "This is your patient for today," she says.

Bant blinks and looks down at the datapad. Obi-Wan's information stares back up at her. "What--"

"This isn't just because I like you. I think you're the best fit for the job. Obi-Wan needs to know there are people here who care about him."

Bant stares for a moment, then remembers. Curing the body is not the same as healing the person. She's the only one who can do _this_ specific job. She nods and tucks the datapad under her arm. "Thank you, Master Che."

"Don't thank me," Master Che says. "Go do your job."

Bant does, making her way through the hall to Obi-Wan's room. She takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Obi-Wan is a little pale, but he's awake and scrolling through a datapad. He turns to face her and freezes for a few seconds.

"...Bant?"

Bant smiles. "Hey, Obi. It's been a long time."

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story, feel free to drop a comment! I love to hear what people think :)
> 
> If you want to stay updated on my other work, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://jessepinwheel.tumblr.com). Come around and talk! Or just hang out, that's cool too.


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